


turn the lights off

by cant



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13186638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cant/pseuds/cant
Summary: akira and mio arent technically related but honestly he hates himself





	turn the lights off

Akira never had sex dreams. He’d had maybe one in his life, when he was a younger boy, but since then he’d never thought about touching another person like that. Not until Mio, really. Not until she’d touched her pinky with his and, after he’d spent some time trying not to panic, actually _smiled_ at him. 

Her voice was so soft in the dark, little gasps and moans spilling into his ears and strong, petite hands grasping at his shoulders. Her skin slid over his, hot and smooth in places and hot and slick in others, nothing but heat and squeezing muscles and fingers, her thighs squeezing his waist and sticking with sweat, her arms around his neck. She kept gasping something to him, maybe his name, maybe encouragement, but he could barely hear over the feel of her skin and her body being so close. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held another person in his arms, let alone thought about getting so close he was inside them, out, in, pushing with a rhythm that formed itself until they were both gasping quietly in the dark. It had to be in the dark. They both knew why. 

Then the light came on and nothing was right. 

Mio’s face stared up at him, blank and expressionless, lying like she was dead. This was wrong – this was so wrong. Suddenly everything looked too flat, too dull, the lack of shadow making her look dead and doll-like. Her clammy, icy fingers clamped around his wrist and her legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him towards her, but he couldn’t move - his heart was racing, rattling around in his ribcage and threatening to fall out, something like fear reaching up to choke him and sending icy fingers scratching over his entire body. 

“Something wrong?” she asked, but he couldn’t reply; a shudder took hold of his body, violently ripping through him, as every point of contact turned sickly and painful like pins and needles. He could have sworn every sweat-slick inch of skin was no longer glistening and was now thrown into disgustingly flat light, cold and empty. Nausea replaced any good feelings until he was filled up with wobbly, icy cold panic. “Aki.” 

“Aki.” 

He couldn’t move. His body was frozen, stuck halfway into hers, his skin crawling with thousands of tiny insects burrowing and eating away his flesh. 

 

“Aki.” 

This time, he woke up, but he woke with a jolt in his heart and a pinch in his stomach, like he was going to throw up. He might actually throw up. He could feel the insects from his dream scuttling over the back of his neck, pinching and biting at his legs and his hands. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Makoto said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. 

Fear, like a bucket of icy water, flushed over Akira’s head as he stared at her. He’d been fucking her sister not a minute ago, listening to her little gasps and moans, and he’d _enjoyed_ it. He’d liked the feel of her skin on his, and now it was all he could do not to gag at the thought of it. 

“Did you wake me up?” he asked, his throat threatening to give up as his voice cracked. 

“M- N- maybe,” she said, avoiding his eyes. He’d never seen her bashful, but this might be the closest. He couldn’t help but think of all the arguments they’d had about her and her love life with her weird boyfriend, and here he was, the hypocrite, dreaming about fucking his step-sister when he could barely stand to be within a foot of anyone. 

He stared at Makoto. His chest was light, flipping over in his fragile-feeling bones, and before he knew it his throat was painful and he was crying. 

Crying in front of Makoto was the worst. He was meant to be her big brother, protecting her, and here he was breaking down. Not only was it uncool, it was frustrating. 

“Oh, Aki- I had to nudge you awake; I’m sorry, I- I didn’t think you’d feel it because you were asleep,” she stammered, leaning forwards as though to comfort him but thinking better of it and drawing into herself at the end of his bed. 

He pulled the blankets up, right up to his eyes like he’d used to when he was too scared to sleep, far too young to be worrying about such things as his mind liked to torture him with. He didn’t even want to touch his own skin. “Makoto,” he said, his voice small, “don’t hate me.” 

He couldn’t imagine what she would think if she knew. Did she know? His heart sank further into his chest. She still seemed shocked. “Hate you? What for? Is that what you’re worried about?” 

No, it wasn’t, but he didn’t know how to explain. He just shook his head and rubbed away a few tears – it only made his vision go blurry. “Does- does Mio hate me?” 

He kind of wanted the answer to be yes, just to know that he could stop thinking about her and move on with his life. 

Makoto was silent. 

He looked up at her, hoping desperately she’d say yes, and he could forget he ever thought about kissing Mio. Makoto fidgeted with her hands, looking around the room, trying to figure out a way of saying whatever she was going to say. 

“Aki,” she began, punctuating her frustration with little annoyed sighs. “Uh, do you… Are you and Mio… Do you- do you have _feelings_ for her?” 

Akira’s heart couldn’t have dropped any lower, but it tried. He felt his chest split down the middle and shatter on the inside. Slowly he imploded, collapsing in on himself until he was nothing but a speck of dust. Worse than that. He couldn’t stand to think of what Makoto might really be feeling, or what other people who knew him might think, what their _Dad_ might think… It ate him up inside, like a slow rot. He never wanted to touch anyone again. 

“Mako,” he mumbled, suddenly exhausted, “I’m sorry I- about, um, being mean to you before. All that matters is you’re happy. I shouldn’t judge.” 

She shifted uncomfortably, twisting the hem of her skirt in her fists. “Well… I- I am, but… You know, Mio really likes you. She really, really likes you.” 

Akira didn’t want to hear it – with a frustrated sigh, he pulled the blanket up to his ears. “Mako,” he moaned, trying to ignore the urge to get up and have a long shower. 

“She does,” Makoto insisted, reaching over to tug his blanket away a little. “She thinks the world of you. Promise.” 

Akira didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to see any of his family or listen to a single word they had to say. He closed his eyes and pulled the blankets over his head, feeling no safer but pretending to.


End file.
